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THE ££^iSH!WM£ 9 Will be published every SATURDAY Mornings In the Tier Story Wooden Building, at the Corner of Walnut and Fifth. Street, in THE CITY OF MACOV, GA. BY WM. B. HARRISON. *TI■: R M S . For tho Paper, in advance, per annum, $3. if not pajd iu advance, $2 50, per annum. If not paid until the end of the Year §3 00. (Tj> Advertisements will be inserted at the usual rates— and when the number of insertions de sired is not specified, they will be continued un til forbid and charged accordingly, (U*Advertisers by the Year will be contracted with upon the most favorable terms. p’Salesof Land by Administrators, Executors or Guardians, are required by Law, to be held on the first Tuesday in the month, between the hours of ten o’clock in the Forenoon and three in the Af ternoon, at the Court House of the county in which the Prop ;rty is situate. Notice ofthese Sales must be given in a public gazette s«xty days previous to the day of sale. jQsgales of Negroes by Ad ministators, Execu tors or Guardians, must be at Public Auction, on the first Tuesday in the tnonfh. between the legal hours of sale, before the Court House of the county where the Letters Testamentary, or Administration or Guardianship may have been granted, first giv ing notice thereoffor sixty days, in one ofthe pub lie gazettes of this State, and at the door of the Court House where such sales are to be held. JOT Notice for the saleof Personal Property must hegivenin like manner t artv days previous to the day of sale. to the Debtors and Creditors o'.an Es tate must be published for forty days. that application will be made to the Court of Ordinary for leave to sell Land or Ne groes must he published in a public gazette in this S,ate for four months, before any order absolute can he given by the Court. jj’Citatioxs for Letters of Administration on an Estate, granted by the Court of Ordinary, must be published thirty days for Lettersof Dismis sion from the administration ofan Estate, monthly for six months for Dismission from Guardian ship FORTY DAYS. ,pj*ltui.K.s for the foreclosure of a Mortgage,; must be published monthly for four months — for establishing lost Papers, for the full space of three months —for compell l ng Titles from Ex ecutors, Administrators or others, where a Bond hasbeen given by the deceased, the full space of THREE MONTHS. N. 15. All Business of this kind shall rnceiv prompt attentionat the SOUTHERN MUSEUM Office, and strict care will be taken that all legal Advertisements are published according to Law. [Q*All Letters directed to this Office or the Editor on business, must be post-paid, to in sure attention. f~fi “A LITTLE idlOttE GRAPE.” rjlllE undersigned, true to Ins promise, again i_ presents to the Public more data on which they can safely base their calculations relative to the respective merits of the depleting system of tho disciples of Esculapins, and of that invig orating and phlogestio one of which he is proud to be the advocate. Leaving the stilts of egotism and shafts of rid icule for tlie use of those who have nothing bet ter to stand on, and no other weapons for attack or defence, he selects his standing on truth, and uses such support only as merit gives him ; and for weapons, he chooses simply to assail the ranks of the enemy occasionally with “a little more grape,” in the form of facts,which are evi dently the hardest kind of arguments since they often administer to Ins quiet amusement by the terrible destruction they cause among the stilts and tli3 ludicrous effect they produce in causing certain individuals to laugh, as it is expressed in homely phrase, “on t’other side the mouth.” The Mexicans are not the only people, these days, whom vanity lias blinded to their own de fects; neither can they claim much superiority in the way of fancied eminence and blustering bravado over many that live a great deal nearer home. A salutary lesson has latterly been giv en the former by the Americnns, and the latter may ere long take “ another ofthe same ” a (a mode dr, Taylor. After the following there \vi I still be “ a few more left.” Georgia, Jones County, 1848. This certifies that for more than four or five Vears my wife was nfilietcd with a disease pecu liar to her sex, and notwithstanding all that we could do, she siiil cnmimicd to get worse. The Physicians in attendance had exhausted their skill without rendering her iy assistance till, in 1844, when she was confined to her bed in a Very low condition, I got her last attendant to go with me to Macon mid lay her case-Ur-orre Dr. M. S. 1 iiomson, who, without having seen her, prescribed and sent her medicine that soon re l heved her, and in the course, of a short time re stored her to permanent health. She has now been well about four years and rejoices in the recovery ol her long lost health FRANCIS 15. lIASCAL. Macon. June 22d, 1848. Du. M. S. Thomson —Dear Sir :—Deeming it a duty I owe to yourselfas well as to the afflicted generally, I have concluded to give you a short statement of my case, which you are at liberty to publish if you think that the best mode of thereby subserving the interests of suffering humanity. In May 1841, after considerable exposure to cold, 1 was attacked with Asthma, which pros trated me very much, and notwithstanding all •hat could be done to prevent it, it continued to return about every’ two weeks till in 184 G, I ap plied to you. Between these attacks I bad a very severe cough, which led some of the physicians to w liom I applied to believe that I had consump ,lo|>. 1 applied to physicians of both the Min eral and Botanic schools, of eminent general qualifications, but all to no benefit, for I contin ued to get worse,so much so that I had reduced from being a strong, fleshy man, down to a mere skeleton and could hardly creep about.—When 1 applied to you, I had but little fiiitli in being cured, though I had witnessed soiye wonderful following youi- treatment, especially the 1 l ' ut craz y woman you bought of Aquil rlei,n Jasper, yet they gave me confi cnee and by persevering in the use of your uinedies, and as it were hoping against hope, « r «i*«d in being able to announce or/ ri° i ’" t e,, fitely well, for 1 have had hut <- ight attack in twenty mouths, and that was o ' months ago. I have now regained about .J armor weight, and feel as strong as almost i ll,lll ot fifty-one, which is my age. Without Ihai'lj ra 8 8ln ® | D to the character ofthe other cures tu> iT S ° •'■“quet'tly resulted from your prac ihis' f ° n<lt that any of them can heat Co’ Ut 00,1 firmed Asthma combined with a liasC!"- cou S S i especially where the flesh 'urealfl. ,ils * oll n b ee| i classed among the in- Most respectfully,yours, 11. LIGHTFOOT. Tlk> • fie cJ,'. ~ ln' .'''r s' Kn ' M ' s l' ll continues to treat Chro t|io c j. US |" m '} tlistance at his office,or either of tkroiinii ' ,rt li n .B houses, and at a distance who dm t or fiy private hand. Those at fi V( , o', personal attention, are treated Usual , n^ , rs per month, those who do, at the P a y mn-( ! ' U<! rilt,!a - Those who are able to our ter ' M'er't to do so, without variation from those J!' 8 ’ un,ess n distinct bargain is made, I fetter''' ar ° n,,t » W 'H ho treated gratuitously. must be post-paid , and addressed I jna 3 M. S. THOMSON, M. D Macon, Ga. THE SOUTHERN MUSEUM VOLUME I. U o e t r g. STANZAS. BY LORD BYRON. I would I were a careless child, Still dwelling in rny highland cave, Or roaming through the dusky wild, Or bounding o’er the dark-blue wave. The cumbrous pomp ofSaxon pride Accords not with the free-born soul, W hich loves the mountain's craggy side, And seeks the rocks where billows roll. Fortune! take back these cultured lands, 1 ake back this name of spU-ndid sound ! I hate the touch of servih Ands I hate the slaves that cringe around : Place me along the rocks I Jove, Which sound to ocean’s wildest roar ; I ask but this—again to rove Thro’ scenes rny youth hath known before. Few are my years, and yet I feel The world was ne’er designed for me; Alt ! why do dark’riing shades conceal The hour when man must cease to he? Once I beheld a splendid dream, A visionary scene of bliss; Truth ! wherefore did thy hated beam Awake me to a world like this ? I loved—but those I loved are gone ; llad friends—my early friends have fled; How cheerless feels the heart alone When all its former hopes are dead ! Though gay companions o’er the howl Dispel awhile the sense of ill, Though Pleasure stirs the maddening soul, The heart—the heart is lonely still. How dull to hear the voice of those Whom Rank or Chance,orWealth or Power, Have made, tho’ neither friends nor foes, Associates of the festive hour. Give me again a faithful few. In years and feelings still the same, Arid I will fly the midnight crew, Where boist’rous joy is but a name. And Woman 1 lovely Woman, thou, My hope, rny comforter, rny all ! How cold must be ttry bosom now, W Iren e’en thy smiles begin to pall ! Without a sigh would 1 resign The busy scene of splendid woo, To make that calm eontentment mine H hich Virtue knows, or seenrs to know. Fain would I fly the haunts of men I seek to shun, not hate mankind ; My breast requires the sullen glen, Whose gloom may suit a darken’d mind. Oh ! that to me the wings were given Which bear the turtle to her nest ! Then wonld I cleave tho vault of Heaven, To flee away and be at rest. .Singular Revenge. An incident is related in our latest Pari sian files, which could have taken place no where else hnt in France. Mons. P an old military officer—a man of harsh and unbending character—had resolved to marry his son to the daughter of one of his brother officers. The young man had formed other projects—had dreamed of another union ; bur, being of an exceed ingly timid disposition, dared hot openly resist his father’s wishes. His first words of dissent having been answered by a tor rent of abuse on the part of the old gen tleman, poor Arthur permitted the month of betrothal to pass without further oppo sition ; whilst his fiance, Mile. L —, mis took his sighs—his melancholy—for proofs positive of his passion for her, and con sidered herself in dutv bound to adore him. The wedding day having arrived, the fiances , with their attendants, presented themselves at the Mayoralty. Arthur was gloomy and reserved, and seemed to have his mind made up to some desperate re solve. The countenance of Emma was radiant with happiness. 1 he preliminaries having been duly ar ranged, the Mayor of C ( M. Morbi b.tn) put to the groom the usual question “ Arthur P , will you take this wo man, Emma C , for your wife!” etc. Arthur slowly raised his head, and in a trembling, yet clear, emphatic tone, an swered—“ No!” Os course, then followed a scene, to the portrayal of which we cannot hope to do justice. All was confusion. The party separated in disorder—the relatives of the interested bride indignantly demanding an explanation of Mons. P , senior, who looked the picture of petrifaction. As for Arthur, he had already escaped, and start ed directly for Paris. A few days subsequent to this extraor dinary occurrence, a young girl was seen rapidly ascending the stairs of & hotel gar ni, in Kue St. Honore. She had learned from the porter that Mons. Arthur P uuived the preceding night. It was Em ma C , come with her father and in tended father-in-law, in search of the fu gitive fiance, wiio had so cruelly insulted her. But she was now alone. She tap ped at the door of ISo. 17, and entered without waiting for an answer. The young man was reclining in bed, reading a newspaper. Emma w alked straight to the bed-side, and, drawing from under her shawl an enormous horse pistol, which MACON, (GA.) SATURDAY MORNING, NOVEMBER I#. 1819. doubtless she had procured from her fath er— “ Sir!” said she to Arthur, her eyes flashing with anger, 4 you have grossly in sulted me, and 1 demand reparation ! Re fuse this reparation at the peril of your life ! Let us return at once to the Mayor alty of C , both in marriage costume. ' When the customary rpiestion is put to you, you will answer 4 Yes’ and 1 shall answer 4 A of’ when my honor will be satisfied.’ Lmma seconded her persuasive elo quence by brandishing her pistol with both ; hands. It was a powerful argument. After all, she was right, or nearly so— at least such was Arthur’s opinion. He promised, and set out the same day with Iris father, who ground his teeth, during the journey, but uttered not a word. Finally, they presented themselves again at the Mayoralty, before the same magis trate. Arthur bravely answered 4 Yes,’ as arranged, and prepar ed his countenance to express the proper degree of indigna tion when he should hear the reply of his betrothed. The Mayor resumed— 44 Emma L , do you consent ?” etc. 4 Yes' answered Emma, in the most natural tone possible. Mods. P , senior, was delighted ;he declared that this union, commenced un der such auspices, would end like the fairy tales. And they are now actually living together, as happy as the days are long ! How IT Originated. —That pr ince’ of joke crackers, Clarke ofthe Knickerbock er, says:—We were not a little amused the other day, sitting at. dinner in the princely banquetting-hall of the N. York Hotel, the finest in the United States, with a discussion touching tho origin of the origin of the phrase, 4 it aint nothing else,’ or 4 he wasn’t anywhere else,’etc. One quoted Watts, as having been the first to suggest this negative style of affirmation, in the lines 11 Tts Heuvpn to rest in thine embrace, And nowhere else hut there.’’ Another contended that the first use of it was by Lamb, who in his reply to Cole ridge’s query, 4 Charles, did you ever hear me preach V replied, 4 I never heard you do anything else,’ etc. We remember to have Ireatd 4 Jim Grant* say one morning, when it was not known whether Mr. Van Buten had or had not received the nomin ation of the Baltimore convention, and in reply to a question whether Ire would he likely to get it: 4 Get it said Jim ; 4 get the no mi- rial ion ? He won’t get nothing else !'—and he didn’t! Literarf Habits of the Hog. —The hog is exceedingly literary in Iris habits: His wi tks are published in large issues of 10 and 12m0., with an appendix at the end of each, interlarded with liberal quo tations from Greece. Although he. has dealt somewhat largely insloc£«and banks, and domestic produce, his property, like that of most purely literary men, is his pen. Like the good and great, in all ages, Ire has his imitators and counterfeiters ' in linked sweetness long drawn out,” not only in Bologna, but in every other quarter of the world. It is said that some of the rar est and sweetest morsels imported into Eden, when Adam was making prepara tions for house-keeping, were conferred upon Adam’s rib, which he spared fur do mestic use.—So by a singular coincidence, some of the sweetest combinations of ani mal organization are conferred upon our friend’s spare rib. He is in some respects a peripatetic philosopher, making all his discoveries in his rambles. He is no su perficial searcher after truth. He skims not over the surface. He goes to the root of the matter. He takes things not by guess but knows. If he is not in favor of the 4 free-soil movement,’ lie is for the free movement of the soil, and manifests his attachment to principles by incessant la bor in the cause. Irish Temperance. — A gentleman from Ireland on entering a London tavern, saw a countryman of his, a Tipperary squire, sitting over his pint of wine in the coffee room. 4 Blood an’ ’ounds! my dear fel low,’ said he, 4 what are you about ? For the honour of Tipperary, don’t be after sitting over a half pint of wine in a house like this.’ ‘Make yourself aisy, country man,’ was the reply; ‘it’s the seventh T have had and every oue in the room knows it.’ * Swear Not at All.’ —Deceive not. Profanity and falsehood are marks of low breeding. Show us the man who com mands the best respects —an oath never trembles on his tongue —a falsehood is never breathed from his lips. Predictions. —He who has a high fore head will have his eyes under it, and will live all the days of his life. He who has a long nose will have the more to blow and the better to handle. He that is bald will be likely to have no hair; hut if lie happens to have any, it will not he on the bald place. Women who have curious eyebrows will in all likelihood have eyelashes under them and will be beloved, if any one takes a liking to them. Young men who have any gallantry will have arms, with young ladies swing ing to ihem. Old men whose wives are dead will marry again, if they have a good chance. Betrothals in Gcrinnuy. A letter from Germany, published in the Congregational Journal, says : Jiince L have been in Mentz, the beau and belle of Mcdnick (a town as large as Concord) became engaged to each other. It made as much sensation as if the town had been burned down. As is u-ual, notice was immediately given to all the neighbors, and the next day the en gaged pair commenced making their calls in the new relation of bride and bride groom ; for you must know that when an engagement takes place, the gentleman is called the bridegroom and the lady the bride. 'I he parties speak of each other always in this way. When you meet the gentleman you inquire after his bride, as you inquire in America of a husband afier his wife. Ihe next week, as is usual, a notice appeared in tho Berlin paper, to the effect that Max Beelitz and Johanna Hermann were engaged.” How it came to pass that our English notions and practices, in regard to these matters, are objectionable, we do not know. Ihe plan of keeping matrimonial engagements secret, ( happily going some what out of fashion,) seems to us exeeed ingly wrong in itself, and pernicious in its consequences. 1. Young persons ought not to appear in society in a false position. A lady se cfelly engaged may, without intending it, seriously occupy the attention and thoughts of another, to his injury, and perhaps to the injury of her companions. When a person no longer is at liberty to make or receive offers, it is wrong to appeir at lib erty. 2. The practice diminishes the impres sion that aught to prevail, of the sacted ncss of a matrimonial engagement; and thus leads, on the one hand, to hasty and ill-considered engagements, and on the other, as a natural consequence, to the violation of such pledges. An engage ment to marry ought to he considered as marriage itself. We mean what we say. Such an engagement cannot be rightly made without such a state of the mind and the affections as must often render its ful filment osen'ial to the well being of one of the parlies; nor can it be made, or at least long continued, in most cases, with out interfering seriously with other plans of life and prospects, W'liich the parties might otherwise have embraced. The engagement ought to he considered as the solemn mutual avowal, before God, of a union for life. Were engagements al ways to he made public at once, and with such a public sentiment respecting them, we should he rid of suits of breach of tnarraige promises, sustained by circum stantial evidence, and often involving the exposure to scoff’ and ridicule, of that which ought to he held sacred. 3. Private engagements are made use of by unprincipled men to deceive and ruin the unsuspicious. In how many ca ses of seduction it is found that a promise of marriage has played its part! The German custom would he a great barrier to the use of that means. 4, We add one other consideration, which, though it may appear trifling when compared With the preceding, is yet im portant in itself. It is this: the tempta tion that a private engagement lays the parties, and sometimes theirfriends, under, to practise falsehood and deception. In fact, as remarked in the outset, the parties necessattly appear m society in a false po sition—which tends of itself to operate injuriously upon them. They are also tempted to the use of various arts of con duct and language, if not to absolute ly ing, to produce a false impression. This cannot he practised without injury to that character of open truth and frankness, which ought to be cherished. A Recent Incident. —ln the crowded market-place of one of the south-western cities, a not them vender of religious hooks was exhibiting his stock in trade,and call ing on the people to step up and buy. He was a colporteur of the American Tract Society, hut seemed to he so abund antly supplied, that he had the book which every man called for, whatever its subject or title. Indeed the variety of his supply was so curious and extensive, that one man offered to bet another, ( Mr. B.) that lie could not name a hook which the vender had not on hand. Mr. B. took him up and cried out — ‘ I say, Mr. Bookseller, have you got the Memoir of the Devil ?’ ‘ The very thing,’ replied the agent tak ing out a hook, ‘the only authentic me moir of his majesty ever published, called the Holy Bible, ju ice twenty-five cents ; will you have it sir V Mr. B. was obliged to pay his bet and buy the Bible, which he took in the midst of general applause. Union of Literary Compositions.— At a large literary party in Edinburgh, in the course of conversation, it was men tioned that a certain well known literary character had writteu two poems, one Called “The Pebble," the other “The Ocean ;’ that he was offering them to tho booksellers, who, however, would Dot ac cede to his terms of publication ;. and that the worthy author was, therefore, puzzled not a little as to what he should do with bis productions. 4 Why,’ remarked a sar castic gentleman who was present, 4 1 think the doctor could not do beetter than throw the one into the other.’ NUMBER 50. | Tub Greatest of Claims. — Harden not your heart hv saying, 4 You have too : much to do to attend to the claims of reli- J gion.” No duty to man can supersede your duty to God. No urgency on earth can neutralize your obligation to the Eter nal. The voices of pleasure'and pain, kin dred and country, and convenience, must all he hushed, in order that you may hear the voice of God. It concerns the safety of your soul—it will decide your cverias ting and unchangeable destiny. The voice that speaks to you now from the mercy seat will awaken your sleeping ashes in their resting-place : “All that are in their 1 graves shall hear His voice.” Their great ness shall not exempt the great, nor their obscurity conceal the lowly. All shall hear His voice in the resurrection trumpet and obey it—the king as quickly as the | beggar. They that have the sands of the wilderness foi their winding sheet, and: they that have for their sepulchre the des-j ert sea, will hear His voice that day, I whether they have obeyed it to day or trot, and come forth. It will pierce the greeo turf of the poor man’s grave, and the bronze and marble ol the rich man’s mau soleum. Ptolemies and the startled Pha raohs in their pyramidical chambers will hear it. The sleepers iu subterranean cemeteries will hear it, and the ashes of the ancient dead will he warmed with new fire in their silent urns. Hear the voice to-day, while its mingling accents are mer cy and peace. Wait not till its tones are those of justice, and truth, and holiness alone. Hear it while it is tho voice of the waiting Father. Soon it will he the voice ofthe offended Judge. Ho you say “I cannot believe V' Is this your sincete conviction—the sorrowful feeling of your heart ?—lt is a truly favorable symptom. The moment you despair in self, you may put confidence in God. It is in heart felt weakness that divine strength is made perfect. But if this objection he only an other version of “I will not believe,” you only harden your heart by making use of it. Pats. D’Amovr.—Ude, when in Paris, had fallen in love, and matters were nearly brought to matrimony, Previous to this conclusion, Ude, however, made a calcula tion (he being an excellent stewart) ofthe expenses of married life, and in the esti mate, set down Madame’s expenditure at so many louis. Now, Ude customarily conveyed Iris billets in an envelope of pale a’ Amande ; hut unfortunately, in the confusion of love and cookery, the esti mate of housekeeping was sent instead of the ptoposal. The next day, Ude was ap prized of his mistake by a letter from his mistress, stating the high estimation in which she held M. Ude ; but that as louis were too small an allowance for a woman of fashion, she must decline the honour of becoming Madame Tide. The story got wind, and, by a sort of lucus-a non-lucend o analogy, the name of Pate d’ Amunde was changed into Fate d' Amour . Here a little and there a little.— j Impressions are made on children, as on! rocks, by a constant dropping of little in- 1 fluences. What can one drop do ? You ; scarcely see it fall; and presently it rolls away, oris evaporated; you cannot, even Yvitlr a microscope, measure the little in dentation it lias made. Yet it is the cons tant repetition of this trifling agency which furrows, and at length hollows out the very granite. Nothing is little, in regard to children, Seize every available opening to instruct and impress them. If you have but a mo ment, employ it. A sentence issometimes better than a sermon. One word ofSct ip turc may prove a seed of life. When your child awakes in the morning, 1 when he is going to school, when he comes to your knee in the evening, when he i kisses you on retiring, when he lies down in bed, when lie is aroused at midnight, these are the moments to be seized for the inculcation of some sacred truth, the for mation of some Christian habit. And, in this work, a short saying is better than a long one. A Doubtful Epistle. —There is tlie greatest difficulty in deciphering Aflghan writings, fur only the consonants appear, and you must insert the vowels as you think will best suit the sense. Thus, the word pirin, 1 beloved,’ is written exactly likely pare, ' beyond,’ for only the p and the r are represented. The consequence of such an elliptical mode of writing, is, that even the natives make egregious blun ders in extracting the pith of the queer little epistles with which their correspon dents favour them. A merchant, for in stance, is said to have received a letter from a friend in Rajpulana, whither his son had gone. Not being very quick at making out hand writing, he asked an ac quaintance to help him; who interpreted ti in such a manner as to make it an an nouncement of his son’s death. The poor father threw dust on his head, bowled pit eously, and collected a crowd about him. 4 Alas!’ he cried, 4 he was my only son !’ One of the by standers, much moved by bis distress, asked him to see the letter.— 4 Pshaw,’ said he after looking at it, 4 there is nothing about death here—-your son has taken a wife —he is happily married.’ 4 Now,’ said the father, 4 I am worse off than ever, for I know not whether to cry or lauirlr ’ BOOK AND JOB PRINTING, ill be executed in the most approved Style and on the best terms,at the Office of the SCTXTHESUT MTJSEUM, -BY— WM. 15. HARRISON. The Illiterate Rob*er. —A gentle-* man passing late at niglit over the Pont J Netif in Paris, was accosted by a polite and seemingly supplicant stranger, who , asked him to read a paper which he had | just picked up. The gentleman held up his lantern and complied. The following I is a translation of the lings l Speak not a word when this you're read, Or in an instant you’ll be dead; Give up your money, watch and ring* Or other valuable things; Departed then quickly, as you will, Only remember silence still. The gentleman thought it best to deliver up his valuables as required. The robber was afterwaids recognized by the person robbed, and arrested. His identity was positively sworn to, and the following con fession was made by the criminal:—‘My lords : I confess that on the evening speci fied, I met this gcutlcman on the Pont Neuf, and the transaction occurred as he related it; but yet 1 am far from being guilty. 1 cannot read ; I picked up the paper and thought it might be of conse quence. Seeing that the gentleman had a lantern, 1 begged him to do roe the favor to read the paper. He complied, and then to my surprise, put his watch, rings and money into my hand. I was so astonished that 1 could not ask him what lie meant,and supposed that the paper was of great val ue, and that he had given me his money, rings and watch to get rid of me. Thus if any one was wronged, it was I, and I hope that justice will be done me.’ He was acquitted I , Simplicity Personified. —We have seldom heard of an instance of more beau tiful simplicity than was evinced by a • f matter-ol fact witness on a riot-trial case down-east.’ 4 What were the mob doing when you first saw them V was one of the questions asked by the district attorney. ‘ They was a-singing,’ replied the witness. ‘Singing /’ exclaimed the public prosecu tor; ‘ what were they singing about!’ 4 1 don’ know, I’m sure, hut they was a-sing mg, any lrovv.’ 4 Well, what was it? What were they saying ? What did they seem lobe talking about?’ 4 Wal, as far as I reecollecs,’ replied the witness, ‘they was a-tulkin’ abeout a man o’ the name of Mr. 1 ucker, who refused to come home to his supper!’ This supreme specimen of ig norance and simplicity convulsed the whole court with laughter.— Knick. Married and Single Mf.n.—A con temporary very sensibly remarks,that there should be some means of distinguishing single from married men. Unmarried fe° males are known by the prefix of Miss to their names, but all men ore styled Mr. How much unnecessary trouble and soli citude might he spared to the anxious mo thers of marriageable girls could they make this distinction ! How very annoy ing to a mother and bevy of girls after lay ing themselves out to please some 4 nice young man,’ to hear him accidentally al lude to his wife! This subject really de mands attention, and we think that" tho girls should suggest some plan by which these disappointments might he obviated. We think there already exists a mode in which single men can easily be distinguish ed from married ones by ladies of discern ment. It is by paying a little attention to the conversation ami manners of gentle men, There is an ease and grace in the manners of married men, a sensibleness and want of flutter in their conversation, which enable them to be readily distin. guished in a mixed company. Unmarried men may lie distinguished by a 4 green ness,’ a certain frivolousness of conversa tion, and a peculiar nutter of deptlttmenr, that nothing but matrimony can entirely cure. Adventx-res of a Crown.—The Hun garian crown, Which was carried off’ by Kossuth, when he fled into Turkey, is fa bled, by the Hungarian legends, "to have been sent by angels to St. Stephen, who was crowned with it in 1001! The truth, as related by history, is, that it was presen ted to Stephen by Pope Sylvester 11.—*A golden circlet, presented to Duke Giesa by the Greek Emjieror, was incorporated with it afterwards. It has seen many curious adventures in the aistory of Hun gary, when rival claimants contended for it. It was once packed away in a cask by a royal gugitive, who, in journeying thus, lost it, but recovered it This same king, Otto, had it forcibly taken away from him by VVayvvode Ladisals, who kept it three years and then was forced to return it. In 1-139, it was stolen by a maid of honor, at the instance ofthe widow of a deceased monarch, who wished to have her infant son Cfowlied with it. In 1461, the widow pawned it to the Emperor, Frederick IY., for 2500 guilders. It was redeemed, but soon stolen again by an other woman, to crown another royal clai mant, and after several changes fell into the hands of the Turks, whose leader, Sol. ymati, returning from the seige of Vienna exhibited it as the crown of the famous Persian Kushivodn. He afterwards sent it hack to the person from whom he obtain ed if, and it then was given to the Embe ror Ferdinand. After many other changes it was sent to Hungary, by Leopold, and and there it remained until Windiscbgratz took Pesth, when Kossuth removed it,and haß ever since kept it in his jrosscssiop.